


Panda Bear

by AdamantSteve



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Past Abuse, Pet Names, hang ups, hurt/fluff (is that a thing), whatever the opposite of dirty talk is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-04
Updated: 2012-10-04
Packaged: 2017-11-15 14:59:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/528527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdamantSteve/pseuds/AdamantSteve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint loves having sex, but an ex made him feel ashamed about it. When he gets with Phil, he's scared that he'll judge him for loving sex so much. But c'mon, it's Phil! And Phil has hangups of his own...</p><p>Written for an awesome prompt on the kinkmeme! </p><p>Thanks go to<br/><a href="http://dunicha.tumblr.com">Dunicha</a> for alerting me to this glorious prompt (and curing my writers block) and also for betaing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Panda Bear

**Author's Note:**

> Details a kind of... vaguely abusive relationship at the start with an original male character. It's nothing physical, just verbal, but still, fair warning.  
> Obviously Clint leaves and gets with Phil in the end (spoiler alert!)

 

 

 

Things had started out well enough with Steven, and it still made Clint laugh bitterly at just how opposite to Steve Rogers this asshole had turned out to be, like he was the bizarro world Steve. He had dark hair and dark eyes. Clint had thought of the word 'smoldering' when he first saw him. They'd met in a gay bar, went back to his apartment, done some things, Clint stayed over. Then they hooked up again and sure, it was nice. Steven was cute in his way and seemed to like Clint a fair amount, and it became a regular thing, swapping blowjobs and jerking each other off on the couch whilst languidly kissing. Clint loved kissing.

 

Clint never told Steven that he'd only been with a handful of guys before him and had only blown a few, but it wasn't a difficult skill, and when Steven breathlessly patted his hair and told him how good it was, Clint felt a pride he'd never even imagined feeling before. From then on Clint happily sucked Steven off before the prospect of anything more came up, unwilling to broach the subject of ~intercourse~ and expose just how new he really was to it all.

 

But Steven was sharp and a few weeks in, as Clint started to shift downwards to Steven's hardening cock, he stopped him and pulled him close, whispering into Clint's mouth, "I wanna fuck you, Clint." Clint had agreed, hoping that his pounding heart and sudden terror might be dismissed as excitement and arousal. And they were both, really. Clint _did_ want this, had thought about it a thousand times, and even if it was a little uncomfortable at first, Steven was gentle and soothing and it felt good, in the end. Felt right. Clint pushed back into it, feeling himself give it up and feel every inch of Steven inside of him. "Knew you'd love it. I could tell you loved it in the ass the first time I laid eyes on you," Steven whispered as he went faster and faster, holding Clint's hips and pounding into him. Clint tried to keep it in but cried out each time the air was pressed out of his lungs, unable to hold it back because he _loved_ it. He really loved it. He'd held off all these years and now here he was getting _fucked_ , and it was everything he'd imagined it could be.

 

After that, Clint was a confirmed bottom. Steven let him top a couple of times but it just felt wrong without something in his ass and that was the end of it. Steven wouldn't ever ask Clint to do something he didn't want to do, and seemed happy enough to fuck Clint when and where he pleased. And Clint pleased everywhere and all the time. 

 

"You love having my cock in your ass don't you?" Steven would say, or words to that effect. Words that got dirtier as time went on.

Clint would nod and breathlessly agree. 

"Such a slut for it. A dirty fucking slut." And Clint would agree to that too. When Steven called him a slut it began to feel like some kind of badge of honour. 

"What are you?"

"A slut." 

He'd wrap his hand around Clint's dick and jerk him off. "So hard for it, aren't you? So hard for getting treated like I paid you for it." And Clint would whimper and nod his head because it was true.

 

Clint enjoyed being in a relationship. They did other things, but it was mostly sex, really. But Clint was fine with that. He was always happy to be bent over the kitchen counter or pushed into the back of the car or rolled on top of in the middle of the night. Steven liked to call him names when they were having sex and even started calling Clint a slut when they _weren't_ having sex, but Clint thought it was kind of cute. No one else ever heard it and so what if they did? 

 

But it wasn't just that. Steven began to stick on the idea of Clint being desperate and horny all the time, as if Clint was the one who initiated sex when most often it was Steven. He started accusing Clint of sleeping around since he was 'so desperate for something to fill his ass' and the only thing that would appease his suspicions was Clint admitting that he _needed_ Steven to fuck him just to stop him from running around town letting anyone have a ride.

 

Clint began to feel as dirty as Steven said he was. The dirty talk that had seemed so hot before now took a darker tone, even if they were the same words. Now it was as if Steven was doing Clint a favour by fucking him, since Clint was such a filthy cockslut who _needed_ to be _fucked_. 

 

Clint started to yearn for the days when he'd have to hunker down in an alleyway to sleep, just for the freedom it seemed to promise. He started to hate how he'd feel after sex, showering immediately with the bathroom door locked. He began to feel dirty when Steven just looked at him, with that knowing leer that spoke volumes about what he thought of Clint. 

 

Now, Clint equated being fucked with being a slut, and being a slut with being worthless and disgusting, and eventually, he stopped trying to tell himself it was ok and left. 

 

After a while in the wind, taking up hired gun jobs when and where they cropped up, SHIELD came to find him and he was taken in. He moved into the crappy accommodation they held for agents like him and it was nice. It was stable and calm and felt almost eerily safe. Every so often Clint would go out on his own to a bar and go home with someone, trading blowjobs and hand jobs but balking at anything more. He tried letting one guy fuck him but he didn't enjoy it, waiting for the man to call him some name or other until he realised how much Clint wasn't into it and tried to make it _better_ with some dirty talk, at which point Clint pushed him off and ran away. He hadn't tried it since. 

 

It wasn't long before the attraction he felt for his handler, one Phil Coulson, appeared to be, albeit subtly, reciprocated, and as much as that thrilled Clint, it terrified him also. A fine upstanding citizen like Coulson would run a mile if he realised how dirty Clint secretly was. Steven had only started calling him a slut once he'd seen how much Clint liked getting fucked. The thought of those words coming out of Phil's mouth horrified him, but once he'd thought of it he couldn't get the idea out of his head. As soon as Clint bent over for Phil he'd realise just how filthy Clint was and of course he'd say so. He'd be bound to comment on just how much of a whore Clint was. 

 

But they dated, anyway. Or a close approximation of dating. They'd watch baseball games together, even though Clint didn't really like baseball all that much. Even though the closer he got to Phil, the more he knew it would destroy him when he inevitably said those words, if they ever got that far. He felt warm around Phil, a saturating warmth that seeped into his bones. Phil's smiles were like warm beams of sunlight and Clint soaked them up whenever he had the opportunity.

 

The first time they _did_ anything was when Clint asked if Phil minded if they watch something else and then both of them realising that neither of them even liked baseball and they'd just been politely tolerating it assuming the other enjoyed it. They laughed and then kissed, only stopping when Clint dropped the remote control. Once that first kiss had broken the dam, Phil's smile shone at Clint and they kept kissing until the end of the game. 

 

They kept watching baseball even though their mutual disinterest had been established. 'Baseball night' meant making out, then progressing to various other things, til really all that was left was exactly what Clint had been dreading. He put it off a few more times and Phil politely didn't mention it, but eventually his curious fingers brushed down the cleft of Clint's ass as he looked up to Clint's face pointedly. Clint could feel his own brow furrowed even as he nodded hesitantly.

"We don't have to..."

"No, no.... I want to." Clint promised.

 

Phil was painstakingly careful and gentle in preparing him, and Clint tried to put his worries out of his mind, not think about Steven or what any of it _meant_. It felt good, and it felt even better when Phil slowly sunk into him. He asked if Clint was alright and Clint let out a bubble of nervous laughter. "Yeah. I'm good." He wanted to say Phil felt like magic, stretching him so nicely, perfect, giving him something he'd craved. He stayed still as Phil began to move, his hands steady on Clint's shoulders, anchoring him there. But it felt so achingly good and oh how he'd missed this. He bit his lip trying not to let out just what it was doing to him, not let Phil see how much he loved it, but found himself writhing beneath him anyway. 

 

Try as he might, he couldn't keep it all inside. The little sounds he made got louder the more Phil undid him from the inside out, and he was unable to help the way he bucked his body to chase Phil's and push him deeper. 

 

He was being too obvious. Phil had to know, had to see just how much Clint was loving this despite himself. He turned his head to bury his face in a pillow but then Phil was right there kissing his ear and talking, and Clint finally heard the words he was saying. 

"Sweetheart, you feel so amazing. So perfect. You're so beautiful, baby. Just gorgeous. Honey, you're delicious, I wanna just eat you up." 

 

Clint choked on whatever he'd been worried about and almost laughed, but it was cut off when Phil thrust into him and he moaned. "Do you like it, sweetie? You sound like you do." And Clint whimpered an affirmative. "I love it, so perfectly wrapped around me, Clint, baby." 

The cliche names, so much the antithesis of what Clint had expected, felt like kisses, each one, deep inside him, and he let go in increments, a little more with each "sugar" and "kitten" and "panda bear". 

 

Phil sounded like he was in a daze, his words floating through Clint and caressing him. "Do you like me being inside you, sweetness?" And Clint couldn't believe how much such a corny name could turn him on. Phil touched Clint's face as he replied with a soft, "Yes, I love it."

 

A little later they lay wrapped around each other, Phil stroking patterns into Clint's back with a finger. Clint realised Phil had a strange expression on his face and felt a sudden pang of doubt. "What?" He asked. Phil looked away and stopped with the finger stroking. "Um, I'm sorry about... all the stupid names I called you. I uh, tend to get carried away." 

Clint frowned. "What do you mean?" 

Phil looked back at him sardonically. "Honeycakes? Jellybean?" Clint took a moment to understand but then grinned widely, suddenly deliriously happy. 

"But that was the best part."

Phil looked away like he thought Clint was making fun of him. "Hey! I'm serious," Clint cupped Phil's cheek, "it was perfect. You don't even know, Phil. Perfect."

 

Phil still looked skeptical so Clint swallowed his doubts away and decided to explain. "Listen. I used to date a guy, and... it was a mess. And uh, once I tried it I really liked... what we just did. A lot. But he used to call me all sorts of crap in bed, and at first it was hot but after a while... it just made me feel bad." Clint left out the harsher aspects of the relationship since he could already feel Phil tensing under his hands. "He made me feel like there was something wrong with me for liking... that. And I was scared you wouldn't like me if you knew. I was really scared you'd..." Clint looked away and let his voice drop to barely a whisper when he finished, "...call me a slut."

 

Phil frowned at him. "I'd never call you that, Clint." He searched out Clint's eye contact. "Ever. I promise." He quirked his eyebrows for Clint's confirmation and he nodded slightly in return. 

"You really like those goofy names though?" 

"I really do." Clint grinned, as surprised about it as Phil seemed to be, who grinned back at him. "Well good, because I kind of get verbal diarrhea when I'm having a good time." 

Clint almost said something about stoic Agent Coulson, the man of so few, well chosen words, but stopped himself. "Were you having a good time?" 

Phil smiled and looked at Clint's lips as he leaned in. "Yes I was. Were you?" 

"Certainly was, sweetlips."

 

They laughed into one another's mouths and kissed again before lazily swapping ideas for relevant pet names for one another, falling asleep with names like Agent-bear and sugarbird in their mouths.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The original prompt is [here](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/11065.html?thread=23684665#t23684665) if you are interested.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [This is a Job for Agent Bear](https://archiveofourown.org/works/799961) by [Agent_Orange_III](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agent_Orange_III/pseuds/Agent_Orange_III)




End file.
